


Christmas Past

by krsive



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Backstory, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Past Abuse, Smut, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krsive/pseuds/krsive
Summary: As Christmas approaches it becomes clear that Rick is not okay. Morty just wants to make him feel better. He gets a little more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 11
Kudos: 77





	Christmas Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JeanJeanAlexender](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanJeanAlexender/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, everybody! This fic is dedicated to my friend JeanJeanAlexender. Go check out their account!

Snow was falling in merry eddies outside of the sliding glass door. School was out for the day, and with the way it was coming down out there Morty was hoping that classes would be canceled for the rest of the week. No more school until after Christmas break sounded great to him. It was going to be his first Christmas since his relationship with Rick had _changed_. He couldn't wait to do couple things together. Just imagining the way they would kiss in the rainbow glow of the Christmas tree had him giddy.

Or, well, it had sounded great when he’d first woken up. At first he’d just been glad that Rick agreed to spend the day cuddling on the couch in front of interdimensional cable. But soon Rick was hitting the bottle _hard_ , much earlier than he usually did. Morty tried to sidle up to him since they were the only ones in the house, but Rick crossed his legs and pushed Morty away with his elbow. Morty watched him out of the corner of his eye after that, growing increasingly concerned about the deadened look in his usually-bright eyes. 

“Oh geez, look at that guy, Rick! What do you think is wrong with him?” Morty said, pointing at the television and making a point to laugh.

Rick stood abruptly. “I’m going to the garage,” he said, and turned on his heel.

When Morty checked the garage door later it was locked.

Day after day Rick just got worse. He was drinking more than ever. He didn’t ask Morty to go on any adventures, but he didn’t participate in the holiday festivities, either. He drifted like a ghost between the garage and his bedroom. Morty left him trays of dinner in the evenings and then collected the untouched contents the next morning.

“Dad has never liked Christmas,” his mother told him one morning. He must have looked as dejected as he felt when he was scraping Rick’s dinner into the kitchen trash, because she gave him a rare kiss on the forehead. “Don’t be too worried, sweetie. He always perks back up after the holidays.”

“He c-can’t just keep not eating,” Morty insisted. “Can’t you say something to him?”

“He’ll stop pouting when he gets hungry enough to join the rest of the family,” Jerry said, having wandered into the conversation.

Morty put the empty plate in the sink and shouldered past his parents. He couldn’t believe that his mother didn’t care that her father hadn’t eaten in _three days_. He was old. He couldn’t keep treating his body like this. She had become so callous towards Rick since Space Beth had come into their lives. Morty hated it. He marched up to Rick’s door and knocked so hard that he bloodied his knuckle.

“C’mon, Rick,” he called. “We have to talk about this!”

The door was wrenched open, startling Morty into taking two unsteady steps back. Rick filled the frame, drawn up to his full intimidating height. His brow was furrowed, his icy eyes flashing.

“‘We have to talk about this,’ Morty? _Really_ , Morty? You sound like a fucking Karen. You’re clearly too stupid to get this, so let me spell it out for you: I want you to leave me the fuck alone. Go play in the road for all I care, just get out of my face.”

“I’m not going a-away until you eat something, Rick. I’ll stay right here all day if I have to.”

Rick took a step forward. He looked so angry that Morty flinched on instinct, raising his arms in front of himself as if to ward off an impending blow. Something flickered through Rick’s expression, his eyes widening so briefly that Morty couldn’t be certain he had seen anything.

“Suit yourself,” Rick grumbled. He slammed his door shut behind himself.

True to his word, Morty spent the whole day camped out in front of Rick’s door. Between his laptop and his 3DS it wasn’t too bad, though his ass kept falling asleep from sitting on the floor. Every hour or so he knocked on the door and called out for Rick, who never answered him. His mother brought a plate for each of them at dinner time. Morty was going to turn his down in solidarity, but as soon as he smelled roast chicken his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and he felt like a freaking black hole. The entire time he was eating he was stewed in guilt because Rick must be feeling infinitely worse.

When he woke up on the hallway floor the next morning he was draped in Rick’s scratchy blanket. Rick’s plate was empty. A note had been taped to his forehead. He groaned and turned onto his back, holding it up to the dim early morning light.

_Fine, you little terrorist. You win.  
-R_

Morty smiled. Progress.

On Christmas Eve he couldn’t get away from the family until nearly midnight; his father had insisted on a marathon of his favorite holiday movies, and not even Summer had escaped. Morty seemed to be the only one who was feeling Rick’s absence. Jerry tried to send Morty to bed ‘so that Santa would come,’ but the whole family just had a good laugh at that one. Beth and Jerry headed upstairs, Summer sneaked out for a party, and Morty was finally left to his own devices. Humming tunelessly to himself, he poured a cup of rich, homemade eggnog and spiked it heavily with his mom’s brandy. Then he spiked it just a bit more for good measure. Satisfied, he let himself into the garage. Rick loved eggnog. He’d be happy that he hadn’t missed it all.

Rick was sitting at his workbench, facing away from the door, staring at nothing. There was no project in front of him, no screen or distracclick. 

“Go away,” Rick slurred. “Don’t wanna see you right--right now.”

Morty put the eggnog on the shelf next to the box of _Time Travel Stuff_. The space heater wasn’t on and it was bitterly cold in the garage. He had to get Rick out of there before he died of hypothermia or something. Morty went to his grandfather’s side and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Rick reeked as bad as a bottle of nail polish remover. No wonder he wasn’t even shivering--he was clearly drunk out of his mind.

“Come on,” Morty said. “Let’s go to b-bed.”

Rick looked up at him, his brilliant blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Morty,” he said. “Morty.”

“It’s ok, Rick. Up you go.”

The bottom of Morty’s stomach had dropped out. It was deeply unsettling to see Rick with tears in his eyes. He tried to soothe his galloping heart with a deep breath as he slipped under Rick’s arm and wrestled him to his feet. Thankfully, once Rick was standing up he became much more pliant, and he let Morty walk him into the house. They only hit a few walls on their way to Rick’s room. Maybe Rick was less drunk than he had initially thought. 

Still, it was better not to take any chances. Morty sat Rick on the edge of his cot and knelt down in front of him. He took off Rick’s shoes, belt, and lab coat. Together they just barely managed to strip him down to his underwear and undershirt. He laid Rick down on his side, leaned down and placed a kiss on his stubbled cheek, and turned to go--but Rick’s hand shot and grabbed him by the wrist.

“Don’t go,” Rick said, his voice thick. He pulled Morty closer and started fumbling at the button of his jeans.

“Aw geez, Rick, I don’t know if this is such a good id-idea.”

“C-C’mon, baby. I’ll make you feel good.” 

Rick managed his fly and tugged his pants and boxers down. He grabbed Morty by the hips and pulled him closer. A shiver ran through Morty as he watched a flush rise on Rick’s cheeks, watched his lashes flutter closed. Rick opened his mouth and all it took was one warm breath on his skin to have Morty’s dick stirring in interest. Rick’s talented tongue got him the rest of the way there and he started sucking cock like it was his job. This was a rare treat. Rick was a surprisingly generous lover, but Morty suspected that he disliked anyone looking down at him, figuratively or literally. Now, though, he was holding Morty tenderly by the hips and swallowing around Morty's cockhead. Morty twined his fingers in Rick's hair. He tugged at the strands urgently.

"Rick. Rick," he said, a whine creeping into his voice. "You have to stop. I'm gonna come." 

Rick just hummed an acknowledgement.

"I want you to fuck me." He stroked Rick's prickly jaw in a moment of sudden tenderness. "Please? I've been missing you." 

Rick froze with Morty halfway down his throat. Slowly and carefully he sat back. The air was cold on Morty's wet shaft; he shivered. The cot creaked as Rick pushed himself upright and shifted so that he was sitting with his back against the wall. He gestured vaguely at the room at large.

"Get the lube. It's...I don't know where it is." Rick busied himself getting out of the rest of his clothes. 

Morty remembered _exactly_ where they had left the little bottle last time. He retrieved it, shucked his shirt, and climbed onto the cot, straddling Rick's legs. Rick smoothed his hands up the back of Morty's thighs. Morty buried his face in Rick's hair, breathing in the scent of his cheap shampoo and his cheap cologne and his cheap booze. It was an intoxicating aroma to him, the perfume of sex and love. He made a small noise when Rick's warm hands left his skin.

"I missed you," Morty repeated, voice muffled by Rick's hair. 

"You missed _this_ ," said Rick. Two slick fingers pushed into Morty, agonizingly slowly. Morty tried to push back onto them, but Rick wrapped his arm around his waist and held him fast. "Ah, ah. Gonna make you feel-- feel real good, baby."

Morty pressed his forehead and his fist against the wall, moans bubbling up from deep in his chest. His hips rocked as much as he could, grinding against Rick's stomach. "Please. Please. I need you. I n-need you inside me."

"Not--not now, baby."

A third finger intruded. Rick gave a little twist and Morty cried out in sudden, helpless ecstasy. He reached back and down for Rick's cock, hoping to tease him into hurrying up. 

Rick was unmistakably, utterly flaccid. A disappointment, but fair enough. He had been focused so much on Morty's pleasure that he had neglected his own, right? 

Morty could fix that.

Morty knew Rick's body better than his own. His deft fingers caressed his shaft, trying to get him started. He bent his head and kissed the soft spot behind Rick's ear. Rick pushed him back with an assertive palm on his chest. 

"That's enough, Morty." Rick's speech slipped and slid, but his tone was low and warning. It was the sort of tone that used to send Morty running for cover.

Used to.

Rick pulled his fingers out, all the while stubbornly looking down so he didn't have to meet Morty's eyes. It was so still in the dim room as they both sat, mired in their own thoughts.

"What's -wrong?" Morty asked, once the silence had grown unbearable.

"It's nothing. It's whiskey dick." 

"You've _never_ gotten 'whiskey dick' before."

"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" Rick pushed against him again. "Get the fuck out of my room."

"Sex was _your_ idea--"

"No. A _blowjob_ was my idea. Which is off the table, now, bee-tee-dubs. Go cry and jerk off with your tears as lube or whatever the fuck you do when you 'miss me.'"

Morty dug his fingers into Rick's shoulders. He refused to be dislodged. "You know what, Rick? No, I'm not gonna get out of your room. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong!"

Rick struggled beneath him, but he couldn't get the leverage that he needed to lift him. Growling in frustration, he at last crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze lingered stubbornly to the side.

"What am I, a fucking sex dispenser to you? One 'concerned gesture' for one fuck?"

"You think this is about the-the _sex_? I don't care about the sex, R-Rick!"

"Bullshit." Rick snorted. "For someone who's supposed to be _so_ concerned about me all week, you sure were ready to let me suck your brains out through your dick!"

"But...but you _wanted_ to! Right?" Morty felt suddenly unsure. He played the exchange back in his mind. Rick had _definitely_ come on to him.

Rick leaned his forehead against Morty's shoulder, hiding his face in shadow. His hands settled on Morty's hips, resting so lightly that all he could feel was their warmth.

"You're a manipulative little _bitch_ , you know that, Morty?" 

Morty's face prickled hot and cold. "What? Rick, oh geez, what'd I do?"

"You fucking know what you did! You...you _smile_ at me now! You act like you want to go on adventures now! You fucking bring me dinner! And all good ol' grandpa Rick has to do is keep your balls empty, right?" Rick's voice jittered and slid in turns; he was unmistakably sloshed. "You know, I'm disappointed--"

"Rick--"

"Aren't you supposed to be some kinda boyscout? Where--where's the honesty, _Morty_?"

"Rick--"

"I'll tell you where it is! It's--it's--it's...there never _was_ any! You think I don't know I'm just a _whore_ to you just because no money changes--"

"RICK!" Morty shook his grandfather by his shoulders. "Stop it! Why would you...why do you think that about me?" He felt his heart twisting like a wrung dishcloth.

"I'd ask you the same thing, but we both already know. Once a whore, always a whore." 

"Stop it! You're not a--a…"

Rick snorted. "Can't say the big bad word? That's a first. No one's ever had trouble telling me exactly what I was before."

"What? Why would anyone ever say something like that to you?" Morty couldn't reconcile his indomitable grandfather with this whipped dog muttering obscenities into his skin.

Morty watched two minutes flicker by on Rick's digital alarm clock. He began to think that he had passed out when he spoke again, so quietly that Morty nearly missed his words.

"Do you have any idea how cold it gets in December in Michigan?" 

Michigan? His mom was from Michigan. Maybe Rick was, too. "Cold, I guess?" where was Rick going with this?

" _Fucking_ cold." 

"Um…"

"Dad tried to kill me." Rick's fingers tightened painfully on Morty's hips. "He tried to kill me, Morty. What else do you call locking a kid out of the house with no coat on Christmas eve? It was 12 degrees outside. I'll never forget seeing that on the bank clock. 12 degrees." He shook his head. His voice turned stony. "At least I fucking learned something. I learned what I really am. I fucked my way into a warm bed that night because I'm nothing. Dad knew it and then after that night I knew it, too."

Morty sat stock still, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. He had never heard Rick talk about his family before. Rick had always been more than a little cagey about his own past. Even Morty's mother had never met her own paternal grandparents. 

Well, now Morty knew why.

"Rick…" Morty licked his lips. He had no idea what he was doing. 

"So you don't have to bullshit me, ok? I'm familiar with the transactional nature of this game we're playing."

"Rick," Morty tried again. "What made you th-th-think that this is a _transaction_?"

Rick shrugged one shoulder, gazing stubbornly off to the right. "Oh, I don't know what clued me in, _Morty_. I'm sure it's natural for you to prefer your 67 year old alcoholic grandfather over that redheaded bimbo you're always going on about. You let me fuck you 'cause I make you come hard. Quid, meet Pro Quo. All this extra bullshit is just...it's just… _insulting_."

"She's not a bimbo--but-but that's not the point! I haven't liked Jessica in a really long time, ok? Because...because…" Morty squirmed. He breathed hard until spots swam on the edges of his vision.

"Morty, don't."

"I love you, Rick! I'm in love with you, ok? Now you can make fun of me or what-whatever."

"Morty, " Rick groaned. "Has a single word I've said made it through into that Jello mold you call a brain? I want you to stop fucking lying to me."

"I'm not lying!" Morty tenderly curled his fingers around the sharp line of Rick's jaw and raised his head. He thought he saw hope glinting in the reflections in his grandfather's eyes. "I'm really not lying, Rick. I love you, ok? I know you think love is stupid, but--"

"Say it again."

"What?"

"Say it again. Look me in the fucking eye and fucking say it again."

"I love you."

Neither of them moved, caught in a net of their mutual making. Morty desperately ran mental math, trying in vain to decipher the look on Rick's face. It was a mystery; Rick's eyes were the unyielding blue of the open ocean. Were they shining with tears or with fury? Morty was terrified to find out.

To the apparent surprise of them both, Morty was the first to break the spell. He surged forward into a desperate kiss, pressing hard into it as if the silent roll of their tongues together could convince where his words had not. Rick's hand slid up his back to hold him close. They kissed until they both ran out of air, and even then their lips brushed softly while they panted for breath.

"I'm not gonna say it back," Rick whispered. The whole world had shrunk to just the space between them.

"I know."

"I'm a bad choice, Morty."

"I know." He touched Rick's cheek. "But you're my choice. We don't have to do this tonight, ok? I'll just go to--"

Rick cut him off with an iron grip around his waist. "No! I want to…" Rick licked his lips, fidgeted his fingers. "Let me _show_ you… Look. You gave me a boner, anyway. The least you can do is take care of it."

"Ok, Rick."

Morty's hole was still slick and stretched from being fingered, so he let Rick line himself up. He shuddered and moaned as he slowly lowered himself onto Rick's cock. Beads of precome rolled down his shaft as he began to move, gasping in delight every time his prostate was grazed. Rick grabbed him around the waist and together they found a rhythm. Morty keened brokenly as Rick began to tease his nipple with his clever tongue. It sent streaks of lightning straight to his leaking dick. Morty wrapped his arms around Rick’s head, his fingers carding through the soft locks of hair at the nape of his neck.

“Rick,” he said. “Rick. Fuck, _Rick_. Kiss me.”

“Morty…” Rick breathed. When he turned his face up toward him, his eyes were shining in the dim light. Wet with tears. “Morty, Morty. Lo siento, no puedo decírtelo. Te amo, te amo, Morty.”

Morty pulled Rick into a kiss, pouring his heart into it. Rick kept murmuring against his lips, _lo siento, lo siento_. His grandfather’s fingers curled around his cock. The pit of his stomach filled with warm syrup. His thighs trembled. He moaned into Rick’s mouth. Rick’s strong arm encircled his waist, holding him still as he fucked up into him. They breathed together, tremulously. Morty murmured back, _I love you, I love you_ , over and over again as his pleasure mounted.

“Rick,” he said, his fingers tightening in Rick’s hair, “oh god, I’m gonna--I’m gonna--”

“Come for me, baby.” Rick kissed the pale pillar of Morty’s throat. Morty threw his head back, baring himself to his grandfather. “I wanna...wanna _feel_ it.”

Morty hummed an assent. He panted and shook with effort as he met Rick’s thrusts. Closer…closer...closer… His eyes flew open and he let out a deep, throaty groan as he tumbled over the edge of his orgasm. The muscles in his stomach tightened, his balls pulsed in time with his release. All thought fled him. He had to hold onto Rick to stay upright. Rick held him fast. He pressed his lips against Morty’s collarbone and his shaky breaths filled the room as he thrust upwards into Morty. He chased down his own climax, grunting as he spilled into Morty. Morty whimpered when Rick pulled out. He felt cold and empty. Lonely. They turned together and laid down, Rick on his back with Morty a pool of loose limbs lying on his chest. Morty nuzzled into the crook of Rick’s neck and sighed contentedly. He was glad Rick wanted to cuddle.

“Can I sleep in here?” Morty stifled a yawn. He always got so sleepy afterwards.

“Please,” Rick asked in a small voice, as if Morty hadn’t already offered. He ran his fingers through Morty’s curls. 

“Rick...it wasn’t your fault,” Morty answered. He was struggling to stay awake, even though they were stuck together with sweat and semen, and it was cold in the room.

“You weren’t there. I wasn’t exactly a little angel, Morty.”

“What if mom and dad locked me out of the house in the freezing cold, Rick? Y-you don’t think there’s anything I could do to deserve that, right?”

“Well…”

“Right, Rick?”

“No,” Rick said firmly. “No, nothing. I’d kill them.”

“Always threatening to kill people for me. Such a r-r-romantic,” Morty said, grinning in the dark.

“More romantic than bringing you a bouquet of severed plant genitals.”

“Only you could make a dozen roses sound gross.”

“Sunflowers,” Rick corrected. 

“What?”

“Sunflowers are your favorite, not roses.”

Morty felt hot tears slip down his cheeks. “You knew that?”

“I know everything about you, Morty.”

Morty laughed wetly into Rick’s neck. “Yeah, Rick. I love you, too.”

They lay together in the silent dark, the air heavy with every new thought they had shared together that night. There would be fallout, Morty knew. His grandfather didn’t like to be seen. He would probably make Morty’s life miserable for a while, like he always did when he felt ashamed. That was ok. Morty knew who Rick was. He knew him and loved him anyway. As sleep overtook him, Morty smiled secretly to himself. At least Rick wasn’t going for the memory gun. He might as well be standing on a mountain top screaming out his love.

And Morty was pretty sure that was the greatest Christmas gift of all time.


End file.
